Mae and I are very open to the idea of cosmetic enhancements. By "open", I mean that we'd neither freak out at the thought of nor scoff at the concept of man-made improvements on ourselves.
So anyway, today Mae calls me. It's the middle of a working day and she is hanging out with my sisters and they end up at a Salon. When it come to a day out with the Grisly Sisters, I can always expect some outlandish cockamie scheme.
"Honey, this place does lips too," she titters excitedly, "For a thousand bucks, I never have to put lipstick again."
The brain registered "thousand bucks" and "lipstick", and the lips responded appropriately, "No."
The brain was quick on this one too. "It's gonna look real freaky," the lips said, "when you turn into an old bag of shit, and still look like you just put on fresh lipstick."